The Morning After
by shazza777
Summary: Scully finally accepts a date from Agent Dawson. Mulder is jealous and so heads out to a bar and gets drunk. He then goes over to Scully's apartment.


**Title:** The Morning After

 **Author:** Shazza777

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Spoilers:** None

 **Category:** MSR

 **Disclaimer:** As always these characters do not belong to me. No infringement intended.

 **Author's Note:** This week my word prompt was 'Shock'. I give a word prompt to Pereybere which was 'Desire' Head on over and read her stuff. Don't forget to leave some feedback and (Archive of our Own) kudos. Thank you!

 **The Morning After**

It was a crisp April day. Spring was starting to shake of its winter layer and the sun was bursting through the clouds, indicating it was time to move on. Cars sat honking their horns at busy intersections impatiently waiting to move on so that the human inside could begin their day.

The sunlight trickled through the basement windows, shining rays onto Mulder's cluttered desk. Organised chaos is what he liked to call it. Of course he wasn't including his stash of yellow pencils he kept on hand. He swung his chair back and put his feet onto the desk, wrinkling some case files as he done so. He breathed out a sigh, wondering what today was going to bring him.

His door creaked open as Scully poked her head round, ensuring her partner was in the office before proceeding in. Coffee in each hand she made her way to the desk.

"Cream, no sugar," she announced handing over the Styrofoam cup.

He gladly reaching his hand over to take the coffee. Noticing how the sunlight radiated off Scully's auburn hair, enhancing her facial features.

"Thanks," he replied quickly looking away so he wasn't caught staring.

Mulder was slowly beginning to realise that his feelings for Scully were moving beyond friendship. He didn't know if she would feel the same way, so he said nothing, but every time he saw her, or spoke to her, his feelings intensified a little bit more.

"You'll never guess who accosted me in the lift on the way down," Scully said rhetorically, without waiting for a response she continued, "Agent Dawson."

Mulder's eyes peered over his coffee cup. He had heard that name too many times. Agent Tom Dawson. Couldn't take no for an answer, no matter how many times Scully rejected him. It irked Mulder. Partly because the guy wouldn't give up, but also because Mulder wanted Scully. He wanted a relationship with her, the only thing stopping him was courage, which Agent Dawson seemed to have plenty of.

"Let me guess," he put down his coffee. "He asked you out, saying you would never regret it, that he would treat you like a queen and of course you answered, for the..." he pretended to do a count up in his head, "must be 17th time now? You answered no."

"Well, sort of," she answered hesitantly, "I mean, the first part is right." she nibbled her lip before carrying on, "This time though, I said yes. I thought, I'm not getting any younger and who knows. Might turn out alright in the end."

Mulder felt like he had been punched in the stomach. How did this happen? He was sure, that had he been given more time, he would have finally plucked up the courage to tell her how he feels. Now though, he wasn't even sure he had words to speak any more. If only he hadn't waited around, waiting on the prefect time to tell her. What if he never got the chance?

He swung his feet down from his desk, bringing a few files with him. He give a little cough to clear his throat as he straightened up on the leather office chair. Trying not to look like he had been wounded in battle, he put on a brave face.

"Er...well, I erm, I thought you were destined to always say no," he give a slight chuckle as he walked over to his grey filing cabinets. They were surely older than him, but he found a safety in them. Especially has he tried to battle away the lump in his throat.

"So when is the date?"

"Tonight. Going to go out for a meal and just see what happens."

His white shirt sleeves were rolled up just past his elbows, his tie was rolled up into a ball in his jacket pocket. Mulder had hung his jacket up when he walked through the door of Casey's Bar and Grill. He hadn't been to the bar in a long time, choosing to spend his time researching old X Files and being on an active case. The barmaid looked up,

"Hey – Spooky," she greeted with a smile, "Haven't seen you in a while."

Mulder planted himself on the bar stool in front of the bar. Searching the row of alcohol behind the barmaid, he finally found what he was looking for.

"Tequila." he stated matter of factly. "And keep them coming."

She silently answered his request. Pulling out a shot glass from under the bar, she grabbed the bottle and filled the glass. He necked it back and slammed the now empty glass back on the counter. The barmaid, tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as she repeated the action.

"Bad day?" she questioned.

He shook his head heavily as he let the liquid slide down his throat with a burning pain. He was going to need a lot more than two drinks to be able to numb the ache in his heart he was feeling.

"You don't know the half of it." He offered no further explanation.

By the time Mulder had downed his seventh tequila, his inhibitions had left him. He no longer felt the ache. Actually, he no longer felt anything. Did he still have his legs? Chuckling at himself, he looked down just to reassure himself. Still there.

"Hows abouts me and you go for a drinks afters," he slurred to the barmaid. The very one he had ignored for most of the time he was there.

She shook her head. Dealing with drunk customers was part of her job description and being a young, single female, meant she was hit on, on a daily basis.

"I think you have had too much to drink," she declared, "Time you were heading home."

Stumbling through the carpeted hallways, Mulder watched the movement of his feet. Trying hard not to trip, or bump into walls. He had already used the painted walls to prop himself up on more than one occasion. He had used Scully's key, which she had given him for emergencies, to allow himself into the apartment complex. As he walked through the corridors, most of the residents being in bed, he talked himself into believing this was justified as an emergency. He needed to tell her. Squinting at his watch, he tried to read the time. It blurred several times before he could bring it into focus. 11.53pm. Never once thinking about whether she would be home from her date, or be in bed, he leaned his weight on the door frame.

Tapping her door three times he tried listening for any movement behind the door. He found it hard to hear though with the buzzing going on in his own ears. Trying to sober himself up, and failing, he rapped again. This time harder and for longer. Maybe if he kept knocking her door she would eventually open it. Somewhere in his mind, this seemed like a good idea to Mulder.

"Scully," he half shouted, "Come on, open up, it's important."

What felt like a lifetime, although he summarised it was probably more like two minutes, the door was pulled ajar with the chain lock on. Scully's stood in the small gap, unsure of what she was going to find.

"Mulder? What are you doing here? It's near midnight," she whispered sleepily.

"I need to talk to you, can you open up please," he pleaded.

Scully wavered, wondering whether this was going to be a good idea or not. Mulder drunk, could never end well. Against her better judgement, she closed the door over and slid of the chain lock.

"You're drunk," she sighed as she opened the door, "You should go home and sleep it off, we can talk in the morning once you have sobered up."

He pushed his way through gently, scanning the room, looking for the closest piece of furniture he could sit down on. Spying the couch as the nearest to him, he beelined for it. Sitting down, before he fell down, he turned and looked at his partner. Taking all of her in, he suddenly began to realise that maybe he hadn't downed enough tequila shots. Even at this late hour, she looked perfect. Her hair slightly ruffled, her dressing gown hanging loosely around her slender frame. Her silk pyjamas the top button having come undone without her knowing. How he loved her.

"Sit down," he patted beside him, "We need to talk."

Scully rolled her eyes and made her way over beside her partner. Drunk Mulder, was a talkative Mulder and all she wanted to do was go back to bed.

"Look," she said sternly, "I will get some pillows and a blanket and you can sleep on the couch tonight. Whatever you have to say can wait until you are sober tomorrow morning."

He opened his mouth to object but she swiftly put her hand up and shook her head.

"Tomorrow." she scolded.

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, counting down the minutes. His tall frame was squashed onto the couch, unable to even straighten his legs. The clock on Scully's desk in the living room read 5.47am. He had been lying awake for the past half hour, biding his time. The more minutes went by, the more nervous he became. Surprisingly, hangover free and with a clear head, he knew exactly what he had to do. Before it was too late.

6.01am. He couldn't wait any longer. Jumping up, he walked into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. He wasn't sure how he was even going to begin telling her. What if the date with Agent Dawson had went well? Then what? He shook the thought off, opening cupboards looking for cups. Damn, he knew the cups were around here somewhere.

"Mulder?"

He spun round, letting the cupboard door slam shut behind him. He placed his hand on his indicating that she had startled him.

"You scared me. Didn't hear you get up."

She moved towards him, reaching past his shoulder to open the cupboard with the cups.

"I'm assuming these were what you were looking for," she smiled.

They sat down at the kitchen table opposite each other. Nursing their coffee, the silence was overwhelming. Mulder looked into every aspect of the room, but he could not bring himself to look at Scully. Feeling like he could be rejected, seemed more like a reality at this point.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Fine. The couch comfortable for you?"

Mulder thought about his night on the couch. His legs squashed up to what felt like his shoulders, no turning room and the blanket constantly slipping off him. Yeah, it was a great nights sleep.

"Not too bad. Think the alcohol might have helped though," he joked.

A giggle escaped her lips as he finally held her gaze. He sit his cup down gently and cupped his hands together.

"Scully, listen," he studied her expression, "What I'm about to say might come as a shock to you. Honestly, it only really hit me full on yesterday and shocked me too. Still trying to process it all."

Slowly drinking down a mouthful of her coffee, she tapped her finger on the cup. It was too early in the morning for serious conversations.

"So here it is," he continued. "Tom asked you out yesterday and when you told me you said yes, I felt like I had been sucker punched in the stomach." He stared deep into his coffee, willing the words to come out of it instead. "I don't know how else to say this, other than I think I'm in love with you."

A slight gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. She looked intently at Mulder, trying to read his expression. This was not where she had seen her morning coffee taking her.

"No," he interrupted her thoughts, "I don't think, I know for a fact I'm in love with you."

He stood up. He had to walk, pour more coffee, or do something at least. He couldn't sit at the table, pondering what her reaction would be. Had he, in the space of ten seconds, ruined the solid relationship that they had? Would there be any coming back after this?

Scully stood up and and approached him cautiously. He was stressed. She could see he was in a flight or fight stance.

"I feel the same." she whispered, "I always have." She took his hand and pulled him close. "I will never stop loving you."

End.


End file.
